The Sharpshooter's Secret Son

by Mallory Kane

  What the hell? He hurt everywhere—not just his shoulders. His hands weren’t even bound behind his back.

  Something had changed. But why? He’d been in this hell called Mahjidastan so long he’d lost count of the days. The predictability, the inevitability, had become as torturous as the pain and fear.

  He carefully lifted his head, which hurt like a sonofabitch. Taking a cautious breath, he coughed.

  Dirt, mildew, old wood—completely different from the stink of urine and camel dung he’d expected. This wasn’t Mahjidastan, the tiny disputed province in the region where Afghanistan, Pakistan and China joined.

  He opened his eyes. Not easy. They were matted with dried blood and caked with dust. Blinking and wincing as he stretched his sore neck tendons, he lifted his head again, even more cautiously this time, and looked around.

  Slowly, his brain gathered up his scattered, disorganized memories.

  He was in a ghost town, in the basement of an abandoned hotel. He’d come here to rescue Mindy. Mindy and their unborn baby.

  He stiffened at that thought, causing his muscles to seize in bone-cracking pain, bending him double. With a superhuman effort, he unclenched his fists. Holding his breath, he stretched his legs. As long as he moved with unbearable slowness, the spasms stayed away—for the most part.

  Frank James had slugged him, kicked him and then Tasered him.

  “Mindy!” he croaked. The last thing he’d seen was James holding that damn gun at her head. The sight had come closer to breaking him than anything he’d ever faced in his life. Because he knew the dread, the fear—the sound of that hollow click. He would give his life if it meant that Mindy never had to experience that.

  Immediately, that image was replaced by another one. The image of shock and agony on James’s face when Mindy hit him in the groin.

  Deke chuckled, which knotted his neck muscles and sent a painful spasm through them. That was his Mindy. She’d acted with the ingenuity and determination that had made him love her from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her when they were ten years old.

  Then reality sheared his breath. Where was she? Had that weaselly coward Tasered her? Had he hurt their baby?

  He’d kill him with his bare hands if he had.

  By moving slowly and stopping when a twinge foreshadowed a muscle spasm, he got his feet under him. Damn, but everything hurt.

  He’d been Tasered before, in training. But that was nothing compared to this. He spread his fingers carefully. The amount of voltage Frank James had used could do serious damage. Hell, it could kill. The spasms caused by the electric shock could stop the heart.

  He had to find Mindy, make sure she was all right.

  He leaned against the wall as his knees threatened to buckle and his head spun dizzily. Bile burned in his throat, and nausea sent acrid saliva flowing into his mouth.

  He forced himself to think rationally. Chronologically. First things first. How long had he been unconscious?

  He looked at the shadows on the floor. Light was coming in from somewhere above and behind him. He turned his head, squinting through his aching eyes.

  That window. He recognized it. He was still in the hotel’s basement. The way the light streamed in, and its bright yellow color, told him it was daylight—morning. At least he could see better than he’d been able to last night.

  There were the crates they’d been sitting on, and in a tangle on the dirt floor were the ropes that had bound them.

  “Mindy!” he croaked, then stopped and listened.

  Nothing. A knot of fear tightened in his gut. “Mindy, sugar? You’ve got to answer me. Where are you?”

  If that ridiculous cowboy had hurt her—

  Frank James had to be working for Novus Ordo. It was the only thing that made sense, given everything that had led up to this point.

  “Damn you, Novus!” he growled. “This is your doing. I know it.”

  He knew Novus and Novus knew him. It was Novus who’d had his helicopter shot down during a covert rescue mission over northern Mahjidastan. Who’d had him tortured, made him reveal how he had found his camp, and how he knew Novus was holding Travis Ronson, the only son of Wyoming senator Frederick Ronson. The senator had been a great friend of Rook’s dad, and Travis, who was a journalist with the Associated Press, had disappeared while embedded with American troops in Afghanistan.

  Rook had come after Deke in the middle of a windstorm. That’s when he’d gotten a look at Novus’s bare face without the famous surgical mask he always wore.

  Novus knew him—knew that no matter what he did to him, Deke would never break. He also knew the lengths Rook and Deke would go to in order to rescue each other.

  So all this, the cleverly tied ropes, the near escape, were Novus’s revenge on Deke for escaping and his proof that he was stronger and smarter than Deke.

  He was toying with him, like a cat with a mouse. Waiting for him to break.

  It didn’t make sense to Deke that a man with a goal of destroying the United States would spend time toying with a man just for revenge. Didn’t he have better things to do? Like achieve world domination?

  Now, he’d taken Mindy away again and left Deke to find her. It was a deadly game of hide-and-seek—with life or death hanging in the balance.

  He knew Novus Ordo was a smart guy. He hadn’t gotten to be the most feared terrorist on the planet by being sloppy. He’d worked fast and smart to get this complex plan in place in the week since Irina had stopped the search for Rook.

  He’d lured Deke here by using Mindy as bait. It was exactly what Deke should have expected. He’d said as much to Irina two days ago.

  “You surprised Novus when you suddenly called Matt back from Mahjidastan. He knew he had no chance of getting to you through all your security, so he targeted Matt first, figuring the reason you stopped was because Matt had found him. But Matt outsmarted his man.”

  Irina had nodded as Deke went on. “So Novus goes after the next obvious target. Me.” He’d ground his fist into his other palm in frustration.

  “He knows if anybody has information about whether Rook is still alive, I do. So he approaches it the easiest and most logical way, just like he did with Matt. He goes for the most bang for his buck. With Matt, it was his best friend’s baby. With me, it’s Mindy.”

  “Your Achilles’ heel,” Irina said matter-of-factly.

  The three words echoed in his brain. She’d hit the nail square on the head. Mindy was his weakness.

  His only weakness.

  He’d promised Mindy he’d save her. And he would. He may have broken promises before, but he couldn’t break this one. If he did, Mindy would die.

  He licked dry lips as his gaze roamed around the basement, studying the layout. He hadn’t gotten a chance to search the whole thing last night. There might be other alcoves or secret doors.

  Before he’d headed out alone for Cleancutt, he’d spent as much time as he dared studying maps and satellite photos of the area.

  His heart had sunk when he realized the call had come from an abandoned coal-mining town. A big one. It was one of the few that had actually grown rather than died around 1950 when underground coal mining had given way to strip-mining.

  So it made sense that some of the newer buildings, like the hotel, had been built over old mining tunnels. It was highly likely that this basement connected to at least one of them.

  Pushing away from the wall, he took a step, relieved that his muscles were no longer spasming, although they still trembled. So he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, taking it easy until he could be sure his knees wouldn’t collapse.

  He started his search of the basement under the window. It was the best-lit area and therefore the easiest to search.

  He examined every wall, every nook and cranny, holding to his grid pattern. Finally he ended up on the far west side, where he’d looked for a door the night before.

  In the dim daylight, he saw that the timbers lining the w
all of the alcove looked different from the wood on the other walls. In fact, they looked like a door, except there was no handle.

  He rapped on the wood with his knuckles. Yep. Solid as a rock. Cursing to himself, he moved his hand a few inches and rapped again.

  His instincts had always been excellent, and combining that with the maps he’d studied and the local history of the area, he figured this was the most likely place for a door into the mine.

  The mine he wasn’t even sure was there.

  Just as he moved his fist another few inches, preparing to rap again, he heard something. He froze, his knuckles millimeters from the rough wood. Closing his eyes, he listened.

  There it was again. A faint rapping—muffled, barely audible.

  He rapped again. And again heard the muffled answering rap.

  “Mindy?” he called softly.

  Nothing.

  He drew a breath to yell, then paused. What if Frank James heard him? Yeah? So what? He’d bet money this was part of Novus’s cat-and-mouse game, anyhow.

  As he prepared to knock, the muffled rapping began again.

  “I’m here, Min. Where are you?”

  Was he projecting or, worse, hallucinating? He had to believe he’d really heard her. If she was on the other side of the wall, then there was a way through it. And he’d find it.

  He rapped on every square inch of the alcove wall, starting at the top. The sound remained flat and solid.

  He stopped again and listened.

  There it was again. The answering rap. It didn’t sound like she was knocking on the same wall he was.

  “Mindy! Can you hear me? Is there a door?” He kept on, testing every inch of the wall. When he got down to knee level, he sat on his heels, wincing as his knees trembled and his leg muscles protested.

  He knocked again. And got a different sound. A hollow sound.

  Yes! His pulse pounded, sending pain arcing behind his eyes. Damn Taser.

  “Mindy?” he called.

  He heard something! A faint low murmur. It was her. He knew it.

  Immediately, doubt sliced through him. What if it wasn’t Mindy? What if it was another trap designed to wear him down?

  Then he’d crawl right into it. He wasn’t about to ignore even the smallest chance that Mindy was on the other side of the wall, counting on him to save her.

  He examined the boards with his eyes and fingers. If he had to, he’d break it down with his bare hands to get to her.

  He couldn’t see anything unusual, but he sure as hell felt something. A slight difference in temperature—a slight movement of the air. Digging the lighter out of his pocket, he thumbed it.

  Sure enough, the flame wavered. There was air behind the rough planks.

  After a few frustrating seconds of digging at the corners of the boards, he thought of his knife. He reached toward his boot and then remembered. He didn’t have it.

  It was inside Mindy’s bra. A thrill slid through him as he thought about how warm it would be from the heat of her body. He shook his head.

  “Get out of my head,” he muttered under his breath, and focused on digging out all that wood putty with his fingernails.

  A long time later, with his fingertips scraped and sore, he called out to Mindy again.

  “Mindy, if you can hear me, move back. I’m going to kick these boards in.” He banged on the wall with his fist. “Right here. Okay?”

  A faint tap answered him.

  He sat back and drew his knees up to his chest.

  “Okay,” he hollered. “On three. One—two—”

  He braced himself with his hands behind him. “Three!” He slammed the heels of his boots into the planks as hard as he could. The thud echoed through the basement.

  Propelling himself forward, he examined the damage. Not much. “Min, stay back.”

  He rocked backward and stomped the wood again, and again. The fourth time it gave, with nails screeching as they separated from wood. Although his legs quivered with fatigue and reaction to the Taser, he kicked at the splintered wood until he’d opened a hole big enough to crawl through.

  For a few seconds he sat quietly, listening. Had the deafening noise alerted Frank James? He waited, but nobody came.

  If the fake cowboy wasn’t sitting back watching his efforts through a hidden camera, Deke was certain he was listening and waiting, and probably laughing at Deke’s efforts.

  Lying down on the dirt floor, he peered through the opening, which was barely wide enough for his shoulders. “Mindy?” he whispered.

  No answer.

  He eased a bit farther in, holding his breath.

  It could still be a trap.

  A movement at the corner of his vision drew his eye. He tensed.

  “Deke—?”

  He clamped his jaw against the flood of relief that closed his throat and stung his eyelids.

  She was there. And her voice sounded strong. But it was still undercut by that same terrified, desperate tone he’d noticed on the telephone. At the time he’d known something was horribly wrong, but he hadn’t known what. Now he did.

  She was afraid for her baby.

  “Everything okay in there?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “You alone?”

  “Yes.”

  She sounded terrified. He hoped she was telling the truth. Once, he’d been able to tell by the timbre of her voice. Could he still?

  What would he do if Frank James had her?

  Nothing different. He was making himself vulnerable to attack by crawling through the small trapdoor, but he didn’t have a choice. If he were alone, he’d reconnoiter, figure out the best place to defend his back and ambush his enemy.

  But he wasn’t alone. He had to get to Mindy.

  “Stay back. I’m coming through.” He ducked his head and slithered through the hole, then stood. It was damn dark in here. Darker than the basement with its tiny window. He wished he had something more than a disposable lighter.

  Deke could barely make out her silhouette. “Min, honey? Are you okay? Are you alone? Did he hurt—”

  Suddenly a firm, round tummy collided with him, and slender but strong arms wrapped around his waist. “Deke, I was so scared. I was afraid he’d killed you.”

  Deke’s throat seized. He swallowed hard against the lump that suddenly grew there. Carefully, feeling as if he might break her if he squeezed too hard, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

  She laid her head in the hollow between his neck and shoulder—her favorite place to sleep, she’d always told him.

  “Nah,” he croaked, then had to stop and clear his throat. “You know me. Nothing can break me. I’m fine. What about you? He didn’t Taser you, did he?”

  Mindy clung to Deke for dear life. If she could crawl inside him she would. Body to body, especially through clothes, wasn’t enough. No matter how many times she’d feared for Deke’s safety, even his sanity, she’d always known he would never hurt her. She’d always felt safe with him.

  Almost always.

  She hugged him tighter. His strong arms tightened around her—a little. He was holding back. Partly because he was still stunned and angry about her pregnancy, she was sure.

  But that wasn’t the whole reason. In all the time she’d known him, he’d never opened up to her—not completely.

  She knew him so well—probably better than anybody alive. So she knew there was a deep core to Deke Cunningham that she’d never been able to penetrate.

  She would bet a lot of money that nobody ever had. Or would. It broke her heart. It was the one thing she’d wanted from him that he’d never been able to give her—his complete trust. It was one of the reasons she’d finally given up and gotten a divorce.

  “Min?”

  She shook her head against the soft cotton of his shirt. “He didn’t hurt me.”

  “How’d you get here? Can you find your way back?”

  “I’m not sure. He blindfolded me again and we walked—it fel
t like hours. When he left me here it was so dark. I don’t know how long I’ve stood here. I was afraid to sit down.” She shuddered.

  “That’s right. You’re pretty paranoid about creepy-crawlies, aren’t you?” She felt his chest rumble with soft laughter.

  “Don’t laugh at me. And no. Not this time. I was so tired I’d have gladly sat in a nest of cockroaches. But I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get back up.”

  “Sorry.” The amusement was gone. “Tell me everything you remember. Did you have to crawl through anything? Bend over to get through a door?”

  “No. We went upstairs and then down again—twice. I think he was trying to confuse me. But once we went outside, I think into a different building. Then down a different set of stairs. Did you come from where we were tied up?”

  “Yep. The old hotel. How’d you keep up with which building you were in?”

  “Mostly by smell. The building we were in smells like mildew. The other one—wherever it was—had more of a smoky odor to it.”

  “Good! We might be able to find our way out by following our noses.” Deke bent his head and kissed her forehead.

  His lips moving against her skin took her back to those innocent high school days, when they’d been good together. Before they were old enough to understand that love alone couldn’t always conquer fear or fill the hollow places left inside by an uncaring parent.

  “You’ve got dried blood all over your face.” She brushed at his temple and cheek, then ran the pad of her thumb gently across his closed eyelid. “And that cut needs to be washed and bandaged.” She touched the skin around the cut and he winced. “Plus, you’re going to have a bruise on your forehead.”

  “Yeah? Well, it’ll match the rest of them.”

  Tears stung her eyes and she squeezed the lids shut.

  “You getting hurt is not funny to me.” She pushed away from him.

  He let go immediately.

  When he did, she swayed. She knew what was wrong. She was tired. She was hungry. The baby was hungry. He got so restless when she didn’t eat. “I need food.”

  “So what’s new?”

  “I mean for the baby.”